The book is finished! With a sigh, My pen upon the desk I lay; The weary task is o'er, and I Am off upon a holiday, To Paris, lovely Paris I have a little ventr'-&#224;-terre.(B) And tho' my verses may be weak, And call for your severest strictures, The illustrations are unique,-- I really never saw such pictures! (At times, in my unthinking way, I almost hope I never may.)Footnote: (B) PUBLISHER'S READER--"Pied-a-terre"? AUTHOR--Shut up!(The...
Poems - Post by : key1965 - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 915

The feast is ended! (As we've seen.) 'Tis time the vacant board to quit. By "vacant bored" I do not mean My host of readers, not a bit! For they, the mentally &#233;lite, Are stimulated and replete. The fare that I provide is light, But don't, I pray, look down upon it! Such verse is just as hard to write As any sentimental sonnet. It looks a simple task, maybe,-- Well--try your hand at it, and see! Don't fancy too that...
Poems - Post by : MichaelSH - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 2318

When Golf was in its childhood still, And not the sport that now it is; When no-one knew of Bunker Hill, Or spoke of Boston tee-parties; One man there was who played the game, And Ananias was his name. But little else of him we know, Save that his grasp of facts was slack, And yet, as circumstances show, He was a golfomaniac, And thus biographers relate The story of his tragic fate:-- He occupied his final scene,...
Poems - Post by : jmcicchelli - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1657

It is impossible to do Three diff'rent kinds of things at once; A fact that must be patent to The brain-pan of the dullest dunce; Yet Marat somehow never knew it, And died in an attempt to do it. A Revolutionist was he; The People's Friend,--they called him so,-- And many such there used to be In France, a hundred years ago. (For further notice see Carlyle,-- If you can grapple with his style.) His manners were so debonnair,...
Poems - Post by : Hammie - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 2659

Of all the sportsmen now afloat Upon the waters of this planet, No better ever manned a boat, (Or paid another man to man it,) And won a kindly public's heart Like dear Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart. Behind a counter, as a child, He woo'd Dame Fortune, fair but fickle, Until at last one day she smiled Upon his spices and his pickle; And all the world rejoiced to see Plain Thomas Lipton made "Sir Tea." He won the trade, his...
Poems - Post by : jtripp - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1159

He stopped inside a tub, from choice, But otherwise was well-conducted, Altho' he raised a rasping voice To persons who his view obstructed, And threw a boot at anyone Who robbed him of his patch of sun. And thus he lived, without expense, Arrayed in somewhat scant apparel, His customary residence The limits of an empty barrel; (His spirits would perforce be good, Maturing slowly "in the wood.") With lamp alight he sought at night For honest men,...
Poems - Post by : mehdi_cit - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3127

All persons who, by way of joke, Point loaded guns at one another, (A state of things which ends in smoke, And murder of an aunt or brother,) Will find that it repays them well To note the tale of William Tell. He was a patriotic Swiss, Whose skill was such with bow and arrow, He never had been known to miss A target, howsoever narrow; His archery could well defy The needle or the camel's eye. And when the hated...
Poems - Post by : imported_n/a - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1892

While other men of "note" have had A certain local reputation, They never could compare with Pad,-- (Forgive this terse abbreviation),-- Loot: Orpheus may have been All Right; Cap: Paderewski's Out of Sight! No lunatic, competing in The game of Arctic exploration, Can ever really hope to win More pleasures of anticipation Than he who fixes as his goal So satisfactory a Pole. The grand piano is his forte, And when he treads upon its pedals, Weak...
Poems - Post by : ozepro - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 2467

From Pimlico to Central Park, From Timbuctoo to Rotten Row, Who has not heard of Joan of Arc, His tragic tale who does not know? And how he put his life to stake, For Principle and Country's sake? This simple person of Lorraine Had thoughts for nothing but Romance, And longed to see a king again Upon the battered throne of France; (With Charles the Seventh crowned at Rheims, He realized his fondest dreams.) Then came the fight at Compi&#232;gne,...
Poems - Post by : Gandegili - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 2539

In far Elizabethan days (Ho! By my Halidome! Gadzooks!) Lord Bacon wrote his own essays, And lots of other people's books; Annexing as a pseudonym Each author's name that suited him. All notoriety he'd shirk, Nor sought for literary credit, Although the best of Shakespeare's work Was his. (For Mrs. Gallup said it, And she, poor lady, I suppose, Has read the whole of it, and knows.) Such was his kind, unselfish plan, That he allowed a rude,...
Poems - Post by : warantedincmo - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1343

Alert as bird or early worm, Yet gifted with those courtly ways Which connoisseurs correctly term The tout-c'qu'-il-y-a de Louis seize; He reigns, by popular assent, The People's peerless President! Behold him! Squarely built and small; With hands that would resemble Liszt's, Did they not forcibly recall The contour of Fitzsimmons' fists; Beneath whose velvet gloves you feel The politician's grip of steel. Accomplished as a King should be, And autocratic as a Czar, To him all...
Poems - Post by : accelorator - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3167

All great biographers possess, Besides a thirst for information, That talent which commands success, I mean of course Imagination; Combining with excessive Tact A total disregard for Fact. Boswell and Froude, and all the rest, With just sufficient grounds to go on, Could only tell the world, at best, What Great Men did, and thought--and so on. But I, of course, can speak to you About the things they didn't do. I don't rely on breadth of mind,...
Poems - Post by : Maxfreesurfing - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3437

"From quiet home and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends." My verses in Your path I lay, And do not deem me indiscreet, If I should say that surely they Could find no haven half so sweet As at Your feet. Unworthy little rhymes are...
Poems - Post by : Lowell - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1131

'Tis done! We reach the final page, With feelings of relief, I'm certain; And there arrives at such a stage, The moment to ring down the curtain. (This metaphor is freely taken From Shakespeare--or perhaps from Bacon.) The Book perused, our Future brings A plethora of blank to-morrows, When memories of Happier Things Will be our Sorrow's Crown of Sorrows. (I trust you recognize this line As being Tennyson's, not mine.) My verses may indeed be few, But...
Poems - Post by : mysticalmaze - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 2873

"Don't Look a Gifthorse in the Mouth" I knew a man, who lived down South; He thought this maxim to defy; He looked a Gifthorse in the Mouth; The Gifthorse bit him in the Eye! And, while the steed enjoyed his bite, My Southern friend mislaid his sight. Now, had this foolish man, that day, Observed the Gifthorse in the Heel, It might have kicked his brains away, But that's a loss he would not feel; Because you see (need I explain?)...
Poems - Post by : dhodges - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1855

There are many more Maxims to which I would like to accord a front place, But alas! I have got To omit a whole lot, For the lack of available space; And the rest I am forced to boil down and condense To the following Essence of Sound without Sense: Now the Pitcher that journeys too oft To the Well will get broken at last. But you'll find it a fact That, by using some tact, Such a danger as this can...
Poems - Post by : princeofprint - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 1009

This Pen of mine is simply grand, I never loved a pen so much; This Paper (underneath my hand) Is really a delight to touch; And never in my life, I think, Did I make use of finer ink. The Subject upon which I write Is everything that I could choose; I seldom knew my Wits more bright, More cosmopolitan my Views; Nor ever did my Head contain So surplus a supply of Brain!(The end)Harry Graham's poem: "A Bad Workman Complains Of...
Poems - Post by : johnsonproducts - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3563

Since it can never be too late To change your life, or else renew it, Let the unpleasant process wait Until you are compelled to do it. The State provides (and gratis too) Establishments for such as you. Remember this, and pluck up heart, That, be you publican or parson, Your ev'ry art must have a start, From petty larceny to arson; And even in the burglar's trade, The cracksman is not born, but made. So, if in your career of...
Poems - Post by : UltraSuccess - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3065

After luncheon sit awhile, 'Tis an admirable plan; After dinner walk a mile-- But make certain that you can. (Were you not this maxim taught;-- "Good is Wrought by want of Port.") After dinner think on this; Join the ladies with a smile, And remember that a Miss Is as good as any mile. (Thus you may be led to feel What Amis felt for Amile.) Never fear of being shy At the houses where you dine;...
Poems - Post by : ebookbi8 - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3765

I never understood, I own, What anybody (with a soul) Could mean by offering a Stone This needless warning not to Roll; And what inducement there can be To gather Moss I fail to see. I'd sooner gather anything, Like primroses, or news perhaps, Or even wool (when suffering A momentary mental lapse); But could forego my share of moss, Nor ever realize the loss. 'Tis a botanical disease, And worthy of remark as such; Lending a...
Poems - Post by : saaron - Date : November 2011 - Author :Harry Graham - Read : 3391